Not The End
by MaeInTheStars
Summary: A mission turns tragic, a captain is consumed by guilt and a crew remember a fallen comrade. *Tribute to Anton Yelchin* Rated T for mild violence in a later chapter.


I didn't really plan to write this, it just sort of happened. I saw Beyond again in the cinema and I just couldn't help but look at Anton every time he was on screen. He was 10 years older than I am now… but he seemed so much younger. It's not fair, and it's not right. But he's gone now, and there's nothing anyone can do to bring him back. In my mind, the Enterprise's crew is a man down now. It doesn't seem right to continue imagining him there, so I needed a way to send him off properly. Like a hero!

So, if you want to join me in saying farewell to our favourite Russian whizzkid, along with paying tribute to his wonderful actor gone before his time, then stay with me 3

" _Keptin!"_

 _That voice again…_

" _Keptin, please, ve must go!"_

 _It was so close, so close and yet at the same time so far out of reach. It was getting louder… louder and yet further away. But that didn't make any sense… nothing made any sense anymore._

" _Keptin, help!"_

 _No… no that wasn't right. Too loud… too far away… too young. Just a boy's cry for his mother in the dark._

" _Keptin! Wake up!"_

 _Wake up? But he was already awake... wasn't he?_

"Captain!"

James Tiberius Kirk woke with a start, and was immediately greeted to the sight of his First Officer's face directly above his own.

"Gah," he yelled, jerking his head backwards and subsequently nearly knocking himself unconscious on the back of the hard chair he was laying in. Clutching the back of his head and muttering various curses under his breath, the Captain lifted his aching body out of the chair and manoeuvred past Spock, who was so still Jim could have sworn that he was frozen solid, if it weren't for his eyes, which followed his friend carefully as he made his way to the door.

"Captain," said Spock, in his characteristically calm voice, "My apologies for waking you." Kirk sighed and turned back to his friend, running a hand over his tired eyes. He was so not in the mood for a heart to heart with a Vulcan.

"It's fine, Spock. I don't sleep much anyway." Far from reassuring Spock, this only caused a cleft to appear in his forehead as his eyebrows furrowed in what, to his surprise, Kirk recognised as concern. When Spock spoke again, his voice was even gentler than usual, as though he were speaking to a small child.

"Your sleeplessness has not gone unnoticed, Captain. Many of the crew are equally as concerned as I am for your welfare." Spock took a step forwards, and his hands came down from their usual position clasped behind his back. "If we could be of any assistance…"

"You can't help with this one, Spock," interrupted Kirk sadly. He had meant to shout that at Spock, but he was so tired and his muscles so heavy that he hadn't the energy. Instead, and to his internal embarrassment, he felt hot tears pooling in his eyes. The eagle-eyed man in front of him did not fail to spot this new development, and he slowly placed his hand on the Captain's shoulder. Kirk wanted to shrug it off, but a voice in his head told him that the comfort was needed. Somewhere deep down, Kirk knew he was close to breaking. He had held his emotions inside for too long, like he was pretending it had never happened.

But it had.

"Jim, it wasn't your fault." It was said with such gentle authority that Kirk almost believed it, but not quite. He snorted and wiped away a tear that had escaped down his cheek angrily.

"Wasn't my fault? Of course it was; I was with him!" Kirk found himself able to shout now, and he utilised his regained ability with such vehemence that Spock looked taken aback and, Kirk noted with a small degree of amusement, slightly confused. For all his experience recently, Spock still wasn't used to sudden outbursts of emotion.

"Captain," began Spock, but Kirk let him get no further.

"Enough, Spock. I made him go on that mission, I was with him and I couldn't keep him safe. Is that enough to make it my fault? Seems like it to me."

For once, Spock had no words. No words that could prove his friend's guilt was unnecessary. Because, loathe as the Vulcan was to admit it, his conclusion was that the captain was indeed responsible. Not entirely, of course. But enough that Spock knew it would be a long, long time before Jim would be able to sleep peacefully through the night.

" _Keptin…"_

 _He sounded so weak, so broken._

" _You should go; I cannot keep up."_

 _No, he was going to stay. He wouldn't go, he WOULDN'T._

" _I'm not going anywhere; you hear me?" he heard himself saying. "I'm staying right here."_

 _He waited for a response, perhaps another attempt by the boy to get him to leave without him._

 _Nothing._

 _Nothing left… nothing to say._

 _It's my fault._

 _He's gone and it's my fault…_

 _He's gone._

There will be more; this is just to set up how guilty Kirk is feeling, which comes into play later.

If there's anything you would like to say about Chekov and/or Anton, leave it in a review and I will work it into one of the crew's tributes to him.


End file.
